


flicker

by demios



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Fluff, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 05:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demios/pseuds/demios
Summary: “Yes, because the Warrior of Light can undo one of Ishgard’s strongest knights armed with nothing but a bottle of watered-down Bacchus and a frisky touch.Stealer of Pantsindeed.”





	flicker

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like there may have been additional substance to this at one point in time but ive let it marinate so long i forgot where i wanted to go with it? heres some porn

“...I don’t think this is very fair.” Sidurgu’s voice is a tersely serrated edge in the pleasantly decorated inn room when the complaint is quietly muttered against the Warrior of Light’s lips. 

“What part?” The warrior asks, pulling away momentarily but still occupied with trying to tug the other’s pants off. Even with the blessing of brilliant conviction, it’s hard to complete their task when Sid is flat on the bed.

“The part where you’re  _ fully dressed.” _ He frowns, but still lifts his hips and squirms out of his breeches. It leaves him in only his smallclothes, and a small shiver courses through him when there’s nothing between him and the open air.

“Oh, that.” He means how they deftly avoided his clumsy attempts at tugging off their garments, leaving him the only one bare. “I never said this would be fair.” They smile sweetly, a mixture of feigned ignorance and barely-contained giddiness of having him here. Sidurgu is blatantly unamused. 

Political developments and sinister machinations kept them away from Ishgard for moons at a time, and they considered themselves lucky to catch Sidurgu and Rielle in Gridania. Rielle had taken to rooming with Sylphie and Gatty while she studied at the Fane, leaving Sid to stay at the Roost like any other adventurer. The warrior is just thankful the mattresses here are stuffed with down instead of straw.

“Next time, then.” They say without thinking as they toss his clothes to the ground. They’re unsure if there even will  _ be _ a next time, but they can hope. “For now, I want to make you feel good. Please?” 

Sid clicks his tongue in faux-reluctance. “I’m always the one at your mercy, aren't I?”

“Yes, because the Warrior of Light can undo one of Ishgard’s strongest knights armed with nothing but a bottle of watered-down Bacchus and a frisky touch.  _ Stealer of Pants _ indeed.” They snort. “Although, you handed my arse to me pretty well the first few times we sparred.”

“If that's your attempt at saving my pride, it's a sorry one.” He says flatly.

“Hey, I tried.” They shrug. He rolls his eyes, but not unkindly.

They’ll bare their scars for him another day - right now, the warrior’s got Sid laid out underneath them as they straddle his hips, drinking in the sight without restraint. (And it is  _ far _ more valuable than the cheap wine they had stashed in their pack.)

Sidurgu is pale snow in the earthen colors, seemingly out of place while surrounded by greenery and dark wood. The amber glow of the lantern tinges his pallid skin in a way that reminds them of dawn over the Coerthan highlands. Though, perhaps, not as cold, because he’s sporting a light blush that extends all the way down to his collar, tinging his flesh rosy. His gaze flits between their own and a damnably interesting wrinkle on the sheets, unsure if he should meet their face when he's so exposed like this.

It's adorable, to say the least. 

They lean over him again and claim his lips with their own. They’ve been careful in this slowly budding thing between them, not wanting to startle or scare him off. But having him this close makes their heart feel overwhelmingly full, and the desire they’ve been keeping under control seeps out against their will. Sidurgu’s lips are as soft as they remember them being, although less chapped from temperate forest climes instead of biting winter air. The warrior licks their way into his mouth, swiping over his fangs and nearly pricking their tongue in the process.

“Careful,” Sid murmurs when he feels a harsh shiver travel down their spine.

They take his warning into account, slowing their movements and taking the time to savor each touch. The warrior is keenly aware of a tingling sensation resting at the nape of their neck, from where he’s holding them with one palm to keep them steady. His claws lightly graze their skin, making them sigh into his mouth. They, in turn, card their hands through his unruly hair and idly trace the subset of horns buried between thick, snowy locks. It draws a deep, satisfied sound from him, not unlike a purr. 

The warrior’s touch wanders, stroking the patch of scales at the dip of his collarbones and letting the pads of their fingers memorize the rough surface. Sid gasps when they travel down further and thumb over his nipples, giving his pectorals an indulgent squeeze. That makes him tense then shudder, his fangs shallowly sinking into the warrior’s bottom lip from the unexpected touch. The taste of metal blooms between them, and his brow furrows in confusion.  _ That’s strange,  _ he thinks hazily before pulling away.

Sidurgu props himself up on his elbows, watching them sit upright on his thighs. His eyes grow wide, and he can only stare in horror once he’s realized what he’s done. The warrior touches their lip criously, as if not fully registering the pain.

“Ah,” The noise of quiet surprise escapes them at the sight of blood on their fingers. It would leave a strange pair of scabs in the coming days, they’re sure, but the incident does little to dampen their arousal. The warrior swipes the beads of red away from their lower lip, eyes alight and giving them the air of a predator with Sidurgu pinned under them.

In the back of his mind, Sid vaguely recalls Ompagne telling him that a number of dark knight techniques were inspired by watching panthers hunt. (Fray called bullshite, saying any mythical Coerthan panther would find Temple Knights to be lacking in both sustenance and taste.) But the au ra supposes there is a grain of truth to that, when he feels as though he is akin to a ruthless coeurl’s quarry. It sends a jolt running up the knobs of his spine, and he finds himself paralyzed.

“That's…”  _ Attractive, very much so, _ is the first thing his brain extracts from the way his thoughts are swirling about like the most vicious of Coerthan blizzards. He swallows thickly, transfixed still before he quickly curses under his breath.

“Sorry - healing isn't my area of expertise, but I can find Rielle, and-” His face darkens from embarrassment, from  _ shame  _ as he starts reaching for the garments just off the side of the bed _.  _ He’s vowed not to hurt them, and  _ yet- _

“I’ll be fine.” They say nonchalantly, placing a hand on his chest to still him. “What's a little blood between us now and then?” They offer him a cheeky grin, the one they get when they're off to do something less than prudent.

Were he of a more composed state of mind, he might feel inclined to tease them about one of the many times the saying rang true.  _ Aye, just like when you were first swinging around Fray’s claymore in Dravania… _ they tossed around their weight haphazardly until they tripped in the sun-dappled grass and gave themselves a bloody nose.

But he can only lower his head, letting the disgust at himself slowly abate. Their touch is warm and forgiving, the back of their hand stroking the scales at his cheek.

It dissipates completely when the warrior leans in again, tilting his chin up. There’s some of their own blood left on Sid’s lip and they greedily lick it away, giving a parting nip of their own and pulling back before he can deepen it.  Another pang of arousal surges through him when he catches their gaze, bright and hungry. A godsdamned terror, that's what they are. Because they're so  _ awfully _ enamored with him, flecks of crystal reflected in their eyes as they treat him so damned  _ gently. _

The taste of steel fades between them - a fitting change in essence for this strange foray without sharpened blades. The warrior resumes their exploration, hands slowly but deftly taking in every ilm he’s laid bare for them. They skim Sidurgu’s sides, letting their nails click against scale and leave gooseflesh where the armor of pure night doesn’t cover him. Years of training and battle have honed his body, and have given him countless scars on top of it all. They want to familiarize themselves with every one if he'd let them, one finger idly tracing over the places where his burden made itself known. They place a hand on his stomach, feeling the taut muscle underneath rise and fall as he breathes.

The warrior’s touches lick him like a pleasant flame, but he feels himself getting impatient the closer they get to his hips. The throbbing of his arousal is a clear indication of his eagerness - Sid absently presses one hand between his legs, stroking himself through his smallclothes to relieve the pressure coiling deep within his abdomen. His tail flicks at the taste of relief, a quiet sigh escaping him.

The warrior notices, their hands traveling lower to rest below his navel. “Can I…?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. They tug his hempen underthings down, just enough to snake a hand inside the front and rub the tender skin around his clit.

Sidurgu’s thighs tense and he fists his hands in the sheets, their touch amplifying the low pleasure simmering at his core. His heartbeat is ringing in his horns, only bested by the sound of his own breathing. He's embarrassingly slick already - one finger works slowly inside his soft flesh, the sensation making him gasp. It teases him with shallow thrusts and eases him into the feeling until he’s unconsciously moving his hips into their touch. 

The worst part, he thinks, are the noises. For once, he privately laments the Warrior of Light’s penchant for being so taciturn - he feels a little ridiculous being the only one making a myriad of breathy groans and bitten whimpers as they continue their ministrations.

“You're so lovely.” They say finally, breaking the silence on their end. Their voice is soft, full of admiration.

Sid’s brow quirks at that. He’s been called many things - Dravanian abomination, intimidating, scruffy at best.  _ Lovely _ is isn't something that would suit him, he's certain.

“That's… not the first word people most would use to describe me.” A dry puff of laughter escapes him, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I wouldn't consider myself to be most people.” They point out.

“I suppose not.” 

“You're lovely.” They say again, leaning into press a peck to the tip of his nose. “And gorgeous, and handsome, and perfect… need I go on?”

“Fury take me,” He swears. “You don't have to flatter me with flowery shite.” Even if it does send the coarse thing between his ribs and lungs fluttering.

They pause, blinking at him curiously. “What was it your master said again? Ah, right - learn to shut up and take the compliment, Sid.”

“You are  _ not  _ bringing the old bastard into this, not while we’re-”

The warrior skillfully flicks their wrist in a way that steals the rebuttal right from his throat. 

The conversation is clearly over, because they're whispering quiet praise into his skin, sending his toes and tail curling. They hitch one long leg over their shoulder, pressing a kiss to his knee, then nip the inside of his muscled thigh, cutting off any further griping he might have thought to voice. 

The warrior uses the angle to press deeper inside, thumbing his clit with featherlight touches as they open him up - Sid can only bite his lip and hope the faces he’s making aren’t  _ too _ ridiculous. His tail curls around their wrist, and he realizes he’s got them in a vise only when they slide themselves out, take his tail in hand, and plant a light kiss on his scales. It does little to help the way his face feels near aflame, and the warrior only laughs in delight before returning to making him into a mess.

The warrior carefully works another finger into him alongside the first and he shakily groans, biting his knuckle. The next thrust feels like the air has been unceremoniously punched out of him, but the presence of  _ them _ dragging against his inner walls leaves a pleasant burn in its wake.

“Is it too much?” They ask, watching his face for any sign of discomfort.

“No, it's-” His hips meet them at the arc of their touch, his slick making the motion smooth. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” They accent their question with a crook of their fingers.

“ _ Good.  _ It's good.” He shivers, then moans into his hand again. “It's just… been a while. Stay inside me. Please.” Sidurgu’s voice is a hoarse whisper.

The warrior can't stifle the lopsided smile that grows across their lips.

The au ra throws an arm over his eyes at the sight. Sid’s... not used to being watched like this; he was always gazed upon in open loathing or kept to the shadows to avoid being seen altogether. The intensity of the warrior’s gaze makes him squirm. He’s seen that primal glint in their eyes, the one they get in the midst of battle. He just never imagined the same one would be turned on him in such a terribly intimate way.

It's a different kind of intimacy than sharing aether in communion with his master and Fray, grounding him when the darkness became formless and untameable. Different than the visceral intimacy of sheathing your blade deep into someone's abdomen and being witness to their last moment of light as they pray to an uncaring goddess. Different, unfamiliar - and something he’d outright recoil from were it not for the warrior being the one he's sharing it with.

He gasps their name between gulping breaths and -  _ oh,  _ that must be something they like, because they're deviously twisting and scissoring their fingers. Sidurgu’s head tilts back when the sudden pleasure jolts up his spine, baring the obsidian scales on his neck. They afford him no quarter, brushing against spots he didn't even know he had, setting his nerves singing. His thighs tremble in their hold, despite his best efforts to stay still. It’s taking him an unprecedented amount of willpower to not simply tear a hole through the sheets with his claws from how hard he's gripping them.

Sid feels like they're sparring again. His lungs burn, his legs ache, and fire quickens through his veins. Sweat gathers on his brow and body, and the warrior watches him with a flush high on their cheeks. There’s that part, too - how he's always craning his neck up at them when they best him, jaw slightly agape and staring just a moment longer than he should.

The pleasure grows at a steady tempo, not too sharp or harsh that it would startle him into turning the mattress into ribbons. Their name is on his lips, eyes closed. Whether it's because he's lost himself or simply too embarrassed to look, he doesn't know. He thinks of their earlier question -  _ this _ is certainly almost too much for him to bear.

“What do you need, Sid?” He's almost there, rocking his hips fervently with his chest heaving through each thrust. The warrior so desperately wants to give him what will get him past the threshold.

“Just -  _ you.  _ Closer.” The answer is so honest they can’t deny him. 

They lean over and take what they can reach, pressing their body against him. The warrior kisses his collar, his shoulder, his chest, his heart. They can feel his blackened aether beneath the surface of his scarred skin, the flames growing hotter and brighter with each passing moment. It's close to communion, with how they threaten to breach the surface. But there's no need for it, not when the warrior is showing their devotion this openly. They tug at his nipples with fingers and teeth, bite and suck at his skin, and Sid doesn't have to look to know they're leaving marks on him. 

He always thought himself their anchor in the growing storm, somewhere they could find solace when the realm’s hero sheds their mantle. But perhaps it's the other way around when he’s clinging to them like this, claws catching on the material of their shirt.

The warrior lightly strokes his clit, applying pressure at uneven intervals and making him whine. They thrust deep and deliberate, and Sidurgu’s body tightens around them, not wanting them to leave. He comes with a grunt, hissing through grit teeth. He throbs around their fingers and his thighs jerk, the following waves of pleasure surprising him.

Sid’s face is still flushed when he comes down from his high, his head swimming as he catches his breath.

“You did so well.” The warrior leans over him, lazily moving their fingers, slick and warm. “Did you like it?” 

Sidurgu only lets out a deep sigh, his body finally relaxing. His insides stop clenching around them and they slide their fingers out. The space between his legs feels wet and tender, and he shivers as his skin cools. The warrior brushes aside his messy hair and presses their lips to the scales over the bridge of his nose, then to his forehead.

“What about you? Don't you want to…” His voice is laden with exhaustion, yet he still tries to reach for the hem of their breeches. The warrior grasps his wrist, stroking circles into the back of his hand with their thumb.

“I’m okay. Just rest - I told you I wanted to do this for you, didn't I?” They say, even as their body throbs faintly with want. The warrior settles next to him on the bed, shedding layers of clothing so their skin warms him.

“Next time,” Sid huffs, careful not to clock them with one horn. “I’ll be the one to make  _ you _ look like an idiot.”

“Some would say I wouldn’t need any help with that.” They grin unabashedly at him, pausing from where they were lightly tracing the curve of one scar on his shoulder.

“Well,  _ more _ of an idiot.” He says, wrapping an arm around their hip. He doesn’t realize how much he’s missed having them here until they’re curling into him. (Rielle was, unfortunately, right - he  _ does _ have it bad.)

“I’d like to see you try.” They say, stealing another peck from his lips.

Sid only pulls them closer, too tired to come up with a witty retort, and lets the sounds of slow breathing and a balmy Gridanian night lull them to sleep.


End file.
